This is my stop
by Honey-On-Toast
Summary: The remains of an abandoned psychiatric hospital becomes a muse for Jane, who discovers a Talisman and a journal containing the ramblings of a madman. She and Daria study them, only to find strange, frequent occurrences in Lawndale, some of which may threaten their very lives. Drug-addicts, schizos and devil worshipers, next on Sick, Sad World! F/F Daria/Jane.
1. All aboard the NOPE train!

**(This takes place after my previous story, 'I've got to be direct')**

What had started out as a relatively innocent task had developed into a reluctant exploration of one of the most infamous parts in town. For a solid 10 minutes, Daria and Jane stood and stared at the abandoned Lawndale psychiatric hospital. What was their task? Why were they there? Both of them had an assignment with different classes that would work out pretty well with this one location, killing two birds with one stone so to speak. Daria had decided to write a creative story about the insidious treatment of patients in the Lawndale hospital, whilst Jane was coming along for some haunting imagery for her paintings. Her Lucid dreaming behind her, she wanted to tackle something that was creepy, yet still in some obscure way withheld an essence of beauty within it. Well, this place certainly seemed to be ripe to take advantage of for creative potential. Whilst it was a decaying man-made structure, nature seemed to show once and for all that it couldn't be conquered. The environment was wound with wall climbers, thick with moss and ivy, the floors blanketed with thick dust and no doubt was inhabited with rodents and other feral creatures.

"This place always seems so much bigger in person" said the artist in a hushed manner, as if the crumbling mass of brick was a holy relic.

"Remind me again why we couldn't have just done some work at the graveyard" Daria droned, masking the slightest reluctance due to fear.

"Because, It's not just the look of this place that's intriguing, it's the history behind it. There's a reason why it's abandoned and that just gives me all the more hype to check it out"

"Pardon me, if cannot contain my bursting excitement" she responded nonchalantly, "but I think I'd rather pull up a seat out here and base my studies on the exterior"

Jane shook her head, a smirk on those fine ruby lips of hers "Nuh-uh, Miss Morgendorffer, you are NOT staying out here. C'mon, we'll stick together. If it gets too much, we'll leave"

"The anticipation is too much" Daria shot, visibly shaking a bit now, although still maintaining her deadpan expression.

"Alright, Daria, timid little mousey, c'mere. I won't let you out of my sight" the raven haired teen cooed playfully, taking her girlfriend's hand and guiding her into the building. She wasn't sure if that was to tease Daria or to ease her nerves as well as her own.

"Great"

Immediately, there's a cold air and a clamp of darkness that seems to grip the place: harsh shadows leaking across the floor and eating the ends and mid-ways of corridors and empty rooms. Their ears could pick up on a distant howl of wind, traveling the passages and tiny, significant sounds of creaking, whining, taps, snaps and rustling all around them.

"I'm inspired. Time to go" the thick-lensed gal said, spinning eagerly around back to the doorway. Jane grinned, seizing her by the shoulders and turning her back around.

"C'mon, we just got here and there's plenty to see yet. Cripes, Morgendorffer, I didn't reckon that this kinda thing would freak you out"

"Of course I am. I don't know if there are any parasites lingering around here waiting to jump me"

"What are you talking about? They're back at your place talking about pores and high-heels" Jane replied quickly, cockily.

"This place has been abandoned for 80 years, for some reason not receiving any permit for bulldozing. I don't know what kinda rabid animals are inhabiting this place"

"Fine, if it really bugs you that much, I swear we'll leave after 10 minutes. We'll stick to the ground floor. Agreed?"

Daria sighed "Agreed" and they took off down the decaying corridors.

Discarded hospital trolleys and papers littered their path, along with a sheet of autumn leaves having flown in through some of the smashed windows. Jane unintentionally kicked an empty pill bottle along the hallway and they stopped, watching it roll to the end, until their eyes and ears could no longer detect it. Seconds later, shuffling could be heard distinctly.

"Probably a stray cat" the artist suggested, shrugging. Despite them clearly being afraid, they were comforted by the presence of the other person, assured. Turning her head, Jane looked into a room, no doubt having been used for sleeping patients at one point, and ventured through the cluttered mess on the beds, tables and other trolleys. Daria took the time, building some courage, to look outside the room and further along the corridor.

Jane didn't technically know what to expect. She didn't expect to find anything particularly, other than some muse for her art. Surely one would think the look and feel of this place was enough, but apparently not. Shivers ran up the girl's spine as she watched a large centipede wander across the floor carelessly, inches from her. She wasn't usually the squeamish type, but whenever it came to obscurely large insects, she admitted it shook a nerve. Brushing her arms off, after feeling a little chill, she took a step back, knocking a bed with a large bang, alarming herself in the progress. Rolling her eyes, she stepped away and saw a disc shaped pendant on the floor beneath the bed. Curiously, she leaned in to swipe it off the floor. Brushing off some collected mass of dust and a dead spider, she saw a peculiar inscription, engraving, on the pendant. She leaned down to look further under the bed and saw a fat book, bulky, so desperate to expand free of its restriction, it was strapped together tightly with some string. Yanking it out from underneath with a loud hiss, from the material and the ground's friction, she brought it into her arms with great effort.

"Christ, this bastard weighs a tonne" she grunted, putting it down on a trolley. Swiping a scalpel from the collection of tools, she cut apart the string, opening the book. It hadn't even managed to stay a book. A lot of the contents were loose pages, some not even sticking to the average size of the book, being A3. Roughly half stayed sturdy and together. This alone could offer may possibilities for inspiration. From what it looked like, it was a series of journal entries, complete with illustrations that somewhat represented the work of Albrecht Durer. A look into the mind of a madman. The girl grinned uncontrollably with excitement.

"Okay, I just saw a padded room with smears of, what I hope is, dried blood across the walls. Can we get outta here now?" informed Daria.

Closing the book, clearing her throat, Jane turned around to face the teen. "Didja find anything?"

"Only a traumatizing experience of a dead institution that tortured people on the basis of their mental health or just being outsiders of the conventional standards of an oppressive and unjust society"

"Sooooo, Lawndale High in general. What's new?"

Daria couldn't help but crack a slither of a smile at that statement and looked down at the trolley.

"I hope you're not thinking of becoming a brain surgeon"

"Hey, you said you wanted a lobotomy for your birthday" she sing-songed, dangling the scalpel near her. Un-amused, Daria pushed away her hand.

"Piss off. What's this book?"

"I found it under a bed. It looks like a personal account of one of the patients that was here once"

"Do you mind if I read some of it?"

"Sure. I'm intrigued by it too, but it's mostly the illustrations that've caught my fancy"

"That works for me" she replied confidently, picking up the book, with just as much effort, and carrying it out the room and back towards the entry to the hospital.

"Did you seriously see a padded room back there?"

"Oh yeah, and right now, we're climbing aboard the 'nope' train and getting the hell out of this place"

"Pizza, then my place?"

"I thought you'd never ask" sighed the misanthropist in relief.

 **End of part one**

 **(This whole story is something entirely different, that I've never done on before. If you're a regular reader of my stuff, give this stuff a chance and see how you feel. Comments and suggestions are always welcome)**


	2. Non-PDA and Pizza

Before heading straight for the pizza place, a traditional custom of theirs, they decided to first drop the book off at Jane's. The contents were old and certainly Miss Lane wouldn't be quick to forgive herself if so much as a string of cheese came in contact with the bound pages. As soon as they entered the household, Daria found her legs start to tremble and she fell into the artists arms, doing her utmost to keep her grip on the journal. As she stumbled back herself a tad into the door frame, Jane couldn't suppress a smirk of amusement.

"You know, you didn't have to be a freakin' martyr and carry this by yourself. I offered 3 times to carry this for you or even just take turns" she said, taking the contents from her and heading upstairs.

"I don't like to have the idea of feeling I'd now have to in-debt myself to sheer submissiveness"

"That's ridiculous, Daria. Who even suggested that?"

Kicking open the door to her room, she strutted in and allowed the mess to fall from her embrace onto her desk with a loud thud. "Daria, there is no 'weaker' individual in our relationship. Heck, there's things we don't even have to do. We're carrying on as is with our regular behaviors in our relationship and I'm rather comfortable with that"

That was true. Both of them expressed a general lack of interest or, at worst, negative opinion of PDA (Public Displays of Affection). It wasn't for the fear of homophobia or a backlash in some form from peers, they just didn't see it as anyone's business. Personally, they also found it kinda rude and inconsiderate when people did it in public, particularly when Brittney and Kevin were making out on Daria's locker. When the time came to tell their parents, they'd do so. Also, nothing particularly screamed superiority or inferiority about any trait of their characteristics or bonding with one another. That was something they wanted to remain as is.

Brushing off the dust from her shirt, the raven haired gal exited the room and the two went back downstairs.

"I need some water" croaked the book nerd, attempting to wet her lips with her tongue.

"Kitchen" ordered the artist. She ran the tap and fetched a small glass. Daria nodded to her in appreciation and her tiny gulps filled the quiet room, along with the gentle, firm taps of Jane's boots. She pulled herself up onto a stool by the counter. As the girl quenched her thirst, she watched the artist take out a hairband from her pocket, going to tie her hair back into a small pony tail, strands of hair falling free from her grasp and into a half-assed fringe.

"I haven't seen that look since you were on the track team" observed Daria, finishing her drink.

"I'd like to have some variety every once in a while for my appearance"

Daria nodded, stroking the rim of her glass a little.

"Look, Daria. Don't feel like you or I have to meet up with expectations. Heck, if we did that, we probably wouldn't have come to know each other"

"It's not so much that"

"Then what is it?"

"Well,... the last thing I wanna feel like is some unnecessary burden for you I guess"

Where this was coming from was beyond Jane's comprehension, but she knew that the bookworm had fears of interfering with the quality of one's life, even when it came to her own sister. A small sigh escaped her lips and she lifted the student's head up with a finger, bringing her into a kiss. Momentarily surprised, Daria then stepped forward and allowed for her girlfriend to wrap her arms around her from up on the stool. Her heart swelled in her chest and she brought her hands up to latch onto the artist's open jacket, kneading the bright red fabric. She struggled to hold back a soft moan, stuck tight in her throat, and a quiet whine slipped out instead, causing her face to cook fiercely. Chuckling deviously in response, Jane nipped jestingly at Daria's bottom lip, urging her to part her lips for her tongue.

Just as Daria shivered pleasantly, at the fingertips of the other girl stroking the sides of her face, she couldn't help but feel as if a pair of eyes were studying them. Watching them. The tingling sensations descended into a freezing chill. Goosebumps. Absent minded, not even noticing Jane's busy hand unbutton her pine green coat, her stomach twisted and the both of them jolted in their spots, as their intimacy was abruptly halted by the piercing hiss of air escaping from a drink can Trent had grabbed from the fridge.

Turning their heads to see him, Jane's expression turned from shock into an agitated scowl. The musician held up a hand, shrugging, trying to hide an amused smile.

 _"Just getting a beer... don't mind me..."_ he said telepathically.

 _"Trent, GO AWAY!"_ she mentally barked.

He walked on out, ushered by Jane's gesture, waving her hand in a 'shoo!' motion. As he disappeared from sight, Daria pulled away from her, flushed, her emotions a hideous concoction.

"Relax. You know Trent isn't a blabber mouth" the taller girl assured, slipping off the chair "In fact, I'll bet you twenty bucks the next time he sees us, he'll have forgotten about it"

"While your calm manner of articulation is intended to put me at ease, I can't help but notice the sincere ringing of doubt in my head right now. Why the hell did you do that?"

"Because I didn't want you to be scorning yourself like that, thinking that you're a problem or trouble to me. You aren't a burden to me, Daria"

"You could've just SAID it" the book worm retorted, a little too quickly, instantly regretting it. "I-I'm sorry..."

"No, no. It was a stupid place to do that. I know how you feel about that kinda stuff"

"Um... so, shall we go out and get pizza then?"

"You know what? Let's just order it and sit in tonight"

* * *

 _"Could Adolf Hitler be still alive and vacating on the moon? I did 'nazi' that coming! Next on Sick, Sad, World!"_

The girls splayed out on the bedroom floor the contents of the journal. After inspection, they saw that the papers were in fact, or were apparently, out of order. Numerous pages contained consecutive ramblings, lists of quotes, detailed illustrations and obscure symbols.

"Looks like this guy was heavy into the occult" surmised the artist, overlooking the display.

"Some of the edges of these papers are crumbling effortlessly, like they'll turn to ash any second. We need to preserve these and keep them safe"

"Good thinking, Batman"

"I'll ask my dad if we can use his laminator"

"It'll cost a pretty penny. We've got over 200 pages here"

"It'll be worth it"

"I can't believe I came across this out of sheer luck. Who'd have thought there'd be some actual treasure in that place?" Jane gushed, marveling over the pages. "I feel kinda tempted to go back in there"

"What for? We've already got something slightly commendable, or at the very least interesting, out of this"

"We certainly do" the artist nodded, a sparkle of excitement in her eye.

"Quit being greedy. I don't wanna go back in there anyway"

"Fine, you don't have to" the artist dared, her projection a little forced.

"Well, if you DO go back in there, take someone with you. I hate the idea of you being in there at all, but worse if you're by yourself"

"Don't worry, I ain't stupid. I'm not gonna wonder off in there at the dead of night"

* * *

"Ain't you gonna eat?" munched Jane, chowing down on the freshly made pizza. Elastic-like threads of cheese stretched high and dripped into the cardboard, as she reached to take another slice. Daria was sat cross-legged on the bed with a pile of the papers, delicately handled, like the most precious holy relics. Jane lounged on the floor, just on the side next to the bed.

"Gimme a sec. I've finally got these in order of a date. It'll make it easier for me to go through them later"

"What's the skinny, Sherlock?"

"Use that dreaded word again and I'll slay you"

"I love you too" Jane peeped with a silly grin.

"Apparently what I got from this is that the guy had schizophrenia. A danger to himself, not so much those around him. He kept himself isolated, self harmed, heard voices, had hallucinations of a 'father'. This is going to be a hell of a read"

"What about all those symbols?"

"They're his own genuine symbols, or sigils, for invocations to entities from the abyss or chasm or pit. He calls it a lot of names, but they mean pretty much the same thing"

"Whoop-dee-doo!" cooed the artist, nonchalantly "We may have the works of a devil worshiper on our hands"

 **End of part two**

 **(Things are kinda slow right now, but they'll pick up. Just a note, the make out scene was inspired by a DariaxJane image on Deviantart by snowwhite-is-high. They're done a lot of awesome Daria stuff, so check it out! Meanwhile, post your thoughts or comments and I'll see to it I'll make the story a better reading experience for you guys. Bye!)**


	3. Visitors in Lawndale

Jane escorted Daria home, offering to carry the journal this time. It wasn't that late, but the street was dead silent, so much that the only distinct noise was from their clopping boots on the pavement. At the door, Jane gently handed the contents to the chestnut haired teen.

"So,... I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow" shrugged the taller girl, rubbing the back of her head.

"Yeah. I'll get this stuff laminated tonight and then I can produce photocopies of the images and symbols for you to work from"

"Yeah... cool, thanks"

The two looked around awkwardly for a minute. There was no doubt Jane wanted to work up the nerve to kiss her goodnight, but considering Daria's feelings, and especially after what happened earlier in the kitchen, there would be the probability that Daria wouldn't appreciate the gesture so much. Chewing her lip, hands tucked in pockets, she turned and walked away, leaving the bookworm with a small weight at the bottom of her stomach.

* * *

Jake Morgendorffer was sat in the living room grumbling, massages his temples with frustration at the workload from his new client.

"Hey, dad" Daria greeted nonchalantly.

"Oh, hey kiddo!" he beamed with enthusiasm. Anything to distract him, even for a blissful second from this work, was an act of mercy.

"Listen, I know it's late, but is there any chance I can borrow your laminator? I kinda need it to protect some work"

"The laminator? Why don't you use some of those plastic sleeves and store them into a folder?"

"The stuff I have is really fragile. Even with the sleeves, I can't be 100% guaranteed they'll be safe"

"Very well then. That old hunk of junk makes a little bit of a noise. Can it wait till morning?" he openly pondered, seeing as his wife and Quinn were sleeping upstairs.

"No problem. Thanks dad"

"You're welcome" he sighed, looking down at his papers. There was no question Daria sympathized for her high-strung parents and despite her callousness, still felt the responsibility in some doses to have consideration for the ones who brought her up, despite how little they understood and listened to her at times.

"Err... can I get you some coffee or something?"

"No, no. I should pack this in. I'll look at it again in the morning" he mumbled, scooping up the work and heading upstairs with her.

Since his heart attack long ago, he'd tried to find some level with his essence of humanity, learn to stop when it was too much. Even though it was a mild one, the experience still shook the teen and she chewed her lip, watching him go up the stairs with caution. He wasn't THAT old, but he was still her father.

"Well, goodnight Daria"

"Goodnight, dad" she responded softly.

* * *

The raven haired cynic was mesmerized. She traced a nail delicately along and around the pendent, scratching lightly at the surface, at the engraving. The sigil was absurd. It possessed visual details similar to that in the Goetia. There was no name of the deity however and, having been looking online at some of the symbols, saw that it matched absolutely none in the damned publication. It may remain a mystery. Maybe time will tell. She told herself frequently not to look into it too much. This was the secret work of a madman. The teen sat at her desk, the lamp spotlighting herself and the object in the darkness that was waiting to engulf her when her mind called for slumber. Occasionally, out the corner of her eye, she could swear she saw a dark figure, but she blamed it on her tiredness and eventually succumbed to her own weariness.

* * *

Daria couldn't help but feel the sounds of everything around her were amplified that night. She seemed to pick up on every little sound, so much that if someone so much as dropped a pin, she could hear it. The hospital got to her and it was hard to discard the thoughts of people having been in that place and the tortures they were exposed to. She also became hyper sensitive to sensation. Her own heartbeat under the covers, the slightest rub of the duvet against her skin. Just as if she thought things couldn't get worse, she had the slightest feel of the drawing of fingers tracing along her throat and seeping into her hair, ever so gently.

* * *

Jane opened her front door to the abusive intrusion of natural sunlight, resorting in her grumbling with disapproval. "Hey Daria"

"When the hell are you going to get your mental alarm clock fixed?" she asked somewhat mockingly.

"I slept like shit last night" the artist grunted in excuse, still in her pajama shirt and bottoms.

"You and me both. Hurry up, or we'll be late"

"Yes, your majesty" she murmured ,with a lazy curtsy of her shirt, and she went back upstairs.

Eventually, Jane left her residence and the two walked together along the street. Her stomach growled in annoyance over the absence of a substantial breakfast. "So the both of us felt some sort of presence in our rooms last night" the artist analyzed aloud.

"If we're lucky, maybe we can rent a room out for it. I'm hoping it won't be bothered by Quinn's materialism and love for her own voice"

"For once, I sincerely hope that what you said was playful sarcasm"

Daria blinked, rather astonished. "Wait, you don't think that what we experienced actually WAS something? Who'd have thought"

"I'm not a theist, but I'm open minded nonetheless to unexplained phenomenon"

"It CAN be explained. We consumed a large amount of cheese beforehand which contains serotonin, which can result in making dreams more vivid. In your case, it's understandable and you essentially explained that you were tired, which gives a valid reason for seeing something out the corner of your eye. And for me, well... there may have been a draft"

"MAY have been? From the sounds of things, you aren't so sure yourself" Jane raised a brow with curiosity.

"I kept thinking of that place last night. I guess it really left more of an impression on me than I thought it would. You're not seriously going back in there, are you?"

"Why not? Once we get the general gist of the building layout, who knows what we can do with it" the artist mused, her head in the clouds.

"You sound like your planning to convert it into some kind of rave joint"

"Hey, that's a cool idea. Can you imagine Trent playing in that place once it was all done up? We can have it made into a place for his gigs and he could collaborate with other artists, sell vinyls and cds and stuff"

"God, I hope you're joking" Daria groaned, rolling her eyes.

* * *

If the abominable blinding light of day wasn't enough to make Miss Lane and Morgendorffer want to shrivel up like ignited cockroaches, there was a personification that came close enough to achieving that.

"Good morning, class!" greeted Mr O'Neil cheerfully. "I just wanted to check up on your progress for your assignments, where you are to make a piece of creative writing based around a historical landmark or distinguishing detail of Lawndale. I'll be going round to each of you individually. You can either tell me about what your plan is or show me what you've done so far"

"I don't think you ever DID tell me what YOU were going to write about" Daria wondered, turning to Jane.

"I didn't. I don't really have a plan for anything"

"You could just write about the asylum too"

"I probably will. I don't think..." the artist began, but came to a hard pause. Her pupils shrunk and she froze.

"You could talk about the fine culture of this town, particularly in its rapid spread of mime schooling" the bookworm kidded, only to find that her comment did little to deteriorate her girlfriend's fight or flight stance. She wasn't so much looking directly at her, more or less, looking right over her shoulder and her face exclaimed a more intense notion of horror with every second

 **End of part three**


	4. In the mind of a madman

For a moment things were hazy and unfocused, the noise of the room muffled and merged into a singular droning ambiance. There was also a dull ache. A concussion. The loud clamor eventually became distinguishable once again and Daria's sight functioned along with the rest of her brain, adjusting, to see she was on the floor and Jodie was holding her up into a seating position.

"Are you alright? Are you okay?" she whispered. The aura in the room was an alarming mesh of concern, anger and violence.

"W-what... w-what happened?" Daria stuttered.

She gazed up to see Mr O'Neil attempting to usher Jane out of the room, who was in a fit, close to hysteria, as she was trying to explain something to them.

"It came outta nowhere, everybody was shocked"

"What came out of nowhere? What's going on?" she spluttered, trying to find her feet. Brittney pranced over in her illuminating cheerleader outfit.

"Jane just leaped out at you, pushed you off your chair, and you banged your head on the wall. She started shaking you, mumbling something" the blonde explained in her squeaky voice.

"Jane attacked you!" Kevin blurted out, dumbly.

Before Daria could make her way past her crowding classmates, the artist had already disappeared down the hallway, the literature teacher dashing after her.

* * *

It wasn't until lunch that Daria locked eyes with a familiar pair, belonging to the taller, raven haired gal. It was a bother, brushing off the worries of her classmates unfounded accusations, ideas of jealousy or deep seated envy that seemed highly unlikely. Jodie's words of advice fell on deaf ears, as Daria proceeded on towards her locker, acting like nothing had happened. In fact, she was more preoccupied with seeing Jane. To have such an extreme action come from her drove a lot of concern to her head. She was terrified by what she remembered last of her expression. Pure, unfiltered terror, right at her. What had she seen? In any case, she finally found the chance to, as she stumbled into her line of sight. Exchanging books for her lessons at her locker, she went to open her mouth to ask the reason for her jumping her, when the ruby lipped cynic hugged her tightly, catching a few people passing by off guard.

"I'm sorry" she whispered softly, worry hanging in her voice.

"I'm fine" Daria insisted, pulling away. "Just what came over you? Why did you do that?"

"I saw something... a face and a hand latching onto you, directly behind you"

"Latching? I didn't feel anything" the bookworm dully informed.

"But it was there, I swear. I'm sorry I pushed you like that, I thought that... whatever the hell that thing was was going to hurt you"

"I'm not denying what you're saying. After last night, I'm willing to approach this with an open mind. What did it look like?"

"It was dressed in a hospital gown... the face,... it was decomposing, the skull fractured and burnt in some areas, empty eye sockets... You know what, you were right, Daria. Let's get that book and take it back to that stupid place. I want nothing more to do with this freaky shit" she declared, cringing at the details.

"The assignment?"

"Fuck, Daria. We don't NEED it! We can still make up a perfectly good creative story on the spot for it. I'm not letting any more of this happen. As soon as school finishes, I'm throwing that stupid book back into the hospital"

"Everything's been laminated" Daria said blatantly, as if the tampering of the quality of the book had interfered with disposing of the garbage.

"I'll give you the money back for it. I'm not taking any chances with this, Daria. Do you have it with you now?"

The urgency in Jane's tone made her shake. If she hadn't been scared before, she certainly was now. Even though she didn't fully believe the circumstances, she didn't want to take her girlfriend's opinion for granted, if there WAS the chance that these things existed and it wasn't just the result of her being a dimwit and coming to school on an empty stomach. She delved into her bag and fished out the sheets, all shiny with lamination. Jane grabbed her and urged her into an empty room, all the while, students and friends watching them with fascination and suspicion.

* * *

"Why are we doing this again?" pondered the nerd, looking out at the display again, showing the personal accounts, illustrations and symbols.

"We should understand what this guy's motivations were. He was crazy, but he wasn't stupid"

"Stupid enough to open the gates of hell" she remarked scrunching her face up.

"People aren't evil for the sake of being evil. There's gonna be a reason why he did all of this"

"A creative outlet influenced by his meds?"

"Funny" the artist responded with a frown.

"Who said I was kidding? Maybe that was why he made this. Some people would be lucky enough to have access to some materials, especially if they were believed to self harm. Anything could be turned into a weapon"

"Good point, but when you look at these pages, you can see that some of the symbols are dried blood, so he still harmed himself in the process of making these. If this was something they knew about, they would've required to see it and these probably wouldn't still exist"

The two pulled up a chair and started reading through the journal:

 _August 12th 1935_

 _Who knows how long I'll have this in my possession? If I'm discovered, to whoever finds this, may it serve as a warning: People are not to be trusted. Noone. Everyone, everything is a lie. Everything they've conditioned us to see, hear, believe is a facade to the reality. There's an escape however. Not physically, but mentally. It doesn't matter what they do, they can't get to me there. Unless I become one of the hall zombies: the ones with the frontal lobe scars that shuffle around aimlessly. We're all going to be like that if we reach to resolve things too late, not just in here, but out there. The real world. Part of me thinks its already happened. Maybe they just couldn't influence me. They can't control me, so they think I'm insane. Maybe that's why I'm here. I could hinder and disrupt the flow of their plans, so they lock me up._

 _August 17th 1935_

 _Father visited me today. I told him of the conditions here. He's very quiet, father. He wants to listen to what I have to say. When I want for him to come, things seem almost impossible. Time drags on painfully. I get it, he's very busy. I'm lucky to have him come here at all. Once in a while, his visitations are a pleasant surprise. He'll bring things to me, give me praises. I seem overtly chuffed, but many people's fathers don't so much as acknowledge their existence. In here, there are very few visits, particularly from one's family members. I feel all the more special. It makes me want to get out of here free all the more, knowing someone cares, someone believes in me. In turn, I'd do anything to make it up to him.  
_

The bell rang, announcing the end of the break period and the girls cleared up the contents of the book and walked to class, their curiosities and fascinations piqued all the more.

 **End of part four**


	5. Canaries down the mine

It was no surprise that when Jane had entered Art class, along with Daria, there were studious, wary stares firing at her from the other students in the room. As she turned her own gaze to acknowledge and greet them with a sharp scowl, they quickly turned back to their work in attempts ignore her. Already, since that stupid act on impulse in O'Neil's class, it seemed their peers had already decided on a judgemental interpretation of Jane. Always the quiet ones, they thought to themselves. If all they did was extend their distance of to her, she could care less, at least if it didn't apply to the ones she desired to interact with.

Jane worked with black, lots of it. The A2 sheet on her easel was soaked in thick, gloppy acrylic, until the artist withdrew a couple of her own tools to start scratching through the substances, inspired to make engraving like pieces herself. Her tools of choice were without a shred of a doubt, unusual, although to Daria that was nothing out of the usual, seeing how experimental with her work the raven haired teen was. Her favorite tool of choice for the current piece was a fork; gritty and rusted. She scooped off paint, scratched it away, flicked it, not at all being messy in the progress. There was a definite shape, a portrait it would seem. The bookworm wouldn't be surprised if she were attempting to re-create what she saw earlier when she jumped her.

* * *

"Well, thanks to whatever this entity is, you're popularity in the school has upgraded from underground cynic to potential psychopath" Daria joked, as they proceeded to walk home.

"Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll reach further through, skipping the paranoia and delusions and get straight to being an alleged serial killer"

"Always looking to move up in the world, aren't you?"

"Oh yeah!" she proclaimed sarcastically, smiling.

Their casual conversation was then rudely interrupted, quite shockingly actually, as the artist felt a half full cup of soda being thrown at her from behind.

"Kevey!" shrieked a familiar, dreadful voice. "You can't do stuff like that! Just leave them alone"

Both of the outcasts spun on their heel, confronting the dimwitted cheerleader and quarterback boyfriend.

"What's your deal?" bit Daria, fishing from her pocket tissues to dab her girlfriend's jacket, face and hair dry.

"Kevin, I said knock it off! Go over there, let me talk to them" the blonde prattled on, until the stupid sportsman turned and walked a good distance along the path to give them privacy. It seemed that the prediction for being totally ignored was too good to be true. Brittney approached them steadily, not taking her eyes of the artist. "I'm sorry about that. Rumors of what happened today just spread like a flame and it really got to some people"

"Just get lost!" growled the raven haired teen.

"Please, just listen" the cheerleader pleaded. "I'm not the shiniest spoon in the cutlery draw or whatever idiom you wish to rectify, but I have enough of a brain to know there's two sides to every story"

In all honesty, the girlfriends were more stunned by Brittney's accurate use of literary definitions than her actual clarification.

"I KNOW for a fact that Jane wouldn't just jump out at you like that, Daria. You guys are too close of friends to have any non-nonsensical violence rise up and come between you two. I don't want rumors anymore than you do being spread around of you being a bully or somebody to be feared"

"The latter sounds rather appealing to me" admitted the artist. "However, yes, I'd be grateful if any rumors stopped"

"Would you mind telling me what happened? I'll let everyone know so they can stop bothering you"

Jane and Daria were stumped. Daria sighed inwardly and told her. "Me and Jane recently have been investigating a supposed haunted location and Jane felt as if one of the supernatural creatures followed me into class today"

The blonde blinked, puzzled. "Haunted? You mean, like, ghosts?"

"Yes, like, ghosts"

"No wonder you freaked out then. Oh, god! I can't imagine what I'd do if I saw a ghost"

As the conversation was brimming with excitement, Kevin found himself wondering over. "Are you guys talking about ghosts?"

Jane found potential in making the scenario work to their advantage "Yes, me and Daria are exploring a location for our creative literary assignment that turns out to be haunted"

"That sounds cool!" he said with a wide smile. "Where is this place? Can we check it out?"

His bragging was met with playful punches from his girl "You big dummy! I'm not going anywhere where there's ghosts"

The bookworm already sensed something about this going horribly wrong. Before she could protest to the notion of them so much as knowing where they were going...

"Me and Daria are gonna check it out again tomorrow. You're more than welcome to tag along for the ride" Jane proposed with a devious smirk.

"Oh, Kevey, we're not really doing this, are we?" the blonde begged, clinging to his arm.

"Are you kidding, babe? I've never seen any ghosts before. I can't pass this up" he replied, oblivious to the obvious fear in his love's eyes. "You gotcha, Jane. Hey, sorry about throwing the drink atcha"

"She didn't mean to hurt Daria. There was a ghost in the room and she was trying to protect her friend" Brittney explained, resulting in a light blush coloring the 'friend's' cheeks.

"N-No problem. Well, we'll see ya at 3pm. Meet at my place"

"Cool! We can watch it get dark and it'll make it creepier" the boyfriend grinned, chuckling as he walked off, Brittney still grasping his arm desperately.

Daria turned to her still blushing girlfriend and they resumed walking home "Okay then, maiden in armor, going to explain to me our agenda for tonight, seeing as we were supposed to be returning the damned book today and now we're dragging the airheads along tomorrow?"

"I just thought it'd be an amusing idea. Canaries down the mine, so to speak"

"Jane, we're returning the book. That's all we're doing. We're not venturing any further into this crap. I've got chills of the idea of sleeping tonight anyway"

"Yeeeah... see, I was wondering..." began the artist. "We both experienced something bizarre last night individually. I was wondering if for tonight you'd like to stay over. I could set up a camera in the room to use for a backup to our creative writing"

"Yes, of course, because Paranormal Activity doesn't have enough sequels for its crappy franchise as it is"

"I meant... in case you were scared. 'Cus I am too. I know I'm being a real idiot right now and trying to milk this thing for the sake of credit for my academics, but I don't want you to be afraid. I want you... to know that I'm here for you"

A smug smile dimly lit the bookworm's expression "Damn, what a sap. What've I done to you?"

With her blush burning further, Jane groaned and looked away.

* * *

Packing her bag for the night in her room, Jane downstairs waiting, Daria observed her room. There was something ironic about this situation: the idea of studying the events and exemplifying the horrors of an actual victim/patient of an asylum, while she herself was living in a padded cell and felt her own mentality being strained by the societal conditions and standards. Was THIS what the madman was talking about in his journal? She couldn't believe that this was reaching home for her in a sick way.

Walking downstairs, she looked to Jane, lounging on the couch lazily, and she glanced up at her. "Ready to go?"

Listening out, looking around for a potential buzzkill or intrusion like last time, she then dropped her bag, jumped onto the couch and pulled the artist into a deep kiss. Her slender arms snaked around her, rubbing the back of the taller girl, as their lips rubbed intensely together, their tongues greeting one another slickly, twirling and stroking the other. Running her fingers through Jane's gorgeous black hair, she couldn't help but feel some sort of tension. Jane continually emitted restrained moans and grunts between each meeting of their lips, as if she were holding herself back and with some evident strength. As they pulled away, both of their faces flushed fiercely, the artist even panting a little from lack of air and her eyes met with Daria's. An intense stare. Something about them was different. When it came to such things as romance and intimacy, Daria was very much a late bloomer and she didn't seem to realize that her girlfriend's pupils had dilated after that passionate make-out session.

Swallowing the thumping heart lodged in her throat and internally attempting to postpone and ignore a carnal throbbing, Jane found her feet and headed to the front door, holding it open, eagerly awaiting for her love to follow.

 **End of part five**

 **(So, I technically have an okay-ish plan set out for my story that I'm following through with quite confidently right now. However, if there's a particular scene or idea you'd like me to approach, just leave a comment. Also, I may see to it that the rating gets changed for this story. In case you haven't already guessed, there may be scenes of a sexual nature up ahead and, of course, there will be some descriptions of violence and more harsh language in later chapters. Bye for now!)**


	6. Sleeping with the enemy watching

Entering into the Lane household, Daria felt some sort of chill. Someone walking on her grave. As she was about to follow Jane up, she saw a familiar face, a scruffy hair-cut and ragged clothing. Trent stood in the hallway.

"Hey, Daria, could I talk to you?" he asked, in his usual tone that sounded as if he were drawing his last breath

Wrinkling her nose, Daria immediately shot a glare at Jane, who rolled her eyes. "Okay. 20 bucks. I'll give it to you in a sec" she sighed and went up the stairs. Daria followed Trent into the kitchen and he went to take a beer from the fridge.

"Just before there's any protest, this conversation is not about what you think it's gonna be about"

"Uh-huh" responded the teen gal unemotionally, observing him from the doorway, still a little on edge about seeing him.

"How long have you guys been going to that asylum?"

"Oh, the psychiatric hospital. Only once"

"Make sure it's the ONLY time you set foot in there" he dragged out, severe warning in his voice.

"Dare I ask why?"

"Me and the guys went by there one night, had a bit to drink after one of our gigs. It was late and we heard voices coming from deep within the remains of the building. They were speaking in unison, coulda been a big group or small group. We never found out. But when we went in to get a better listen, we heard what we swore to be a woman singing. It was indistinguishable. Never knew if it was a language or was just exercising her vocals with no frame in mind about the lyrics, like scat music. It coulda been gibberish. It's the way it was sung though that spooked me. It was a sweet, inoffensive melody, but the voice of whoever it was sounded like she'd been tortured, like someone had attempted to rip out her voicebox. It gives me chills thinking about it. There were moments where the voice was crackling, there was exaggerated croaking and droning, to a pitch even I couldn't reach if I'd tried. We then heard heavy breathing and aggressive growling all around us, as if someone were doing it right in our ears, but we looked at each other and we couldn't see a damn soul. We ran as fast as we could, till the place was outta sight"

Daria blinked, taking in the story, envisioning the scenario a little too vividly for her own liking. There was a pause. Trent leaned against the counter, looking down at the floor.

"I believe you" she muttered finally, causing the ragged young man to look at her. He was puzzled for a moment, then his gaze relaxed and saw that they in fact had an understanding. As, she turned to leave and go upstairs, Trent slid in one last factor.

"I'm only saying this 'cus... I swore I heard her again... out my window last night"

* * *

Daria sat on the bed, reading through more of the journal, whilst Jane was at work at her easel, painting the symbol she'd seen on the pendant and among the other sigils in the work. It started with a 'Y' and sat at the end of a sideways capital 'T'. From the bottom of the 'Y', a letter 'S' wound through the straight line and finished just before the end, making the head of the 'T'. Each ending line was decorated with a cross pattee. The symbol was then encircled.

 _September 3rd 1935_

 _Once the night comes, everything becomes still and clear. I can finally see. This is what father promised me. Tonight, I saw the most beautiful woman, most elegant, on such a sombre night. She looked upon me with such pity and I knelt to kiss her feet, overwhelmed by her presence. The room became heavy as if everything were dragging downward. Gravity greatly emphasized. I hadn't at all the pleasure to hear her voice escape such fine, thin lips. Her features were sharp; her cheekbones, chin and brow, along with her pelvis bone, spine and ribs, jutted out, like a skeleton thinly draped in dark skin of a smokey topaz. Her legs bowed, like the poor children in Africa and her belly, pudgy, sat within her apparent frail frame unsteadily, as if it may burst ._

The bookworm assumed that this may be the entity who had visited them both during the night and at school. His depiction of her didn't sound in the least inviting and his perception of beauty, unarguably questionable and immoral. However, there was more.

 _She levitated in the air and carried up upon her shoulders two skulls. Another set of arms held a rose and what looked to be a rusted sickle. And yet another set of arms limply dangled from her, like an insect with multiple limbs but whose arms suspended from duty hung in defeat. Black horns, like that of a gazelle, protruded from her skull at the sides and her forehead produced a bright light. Not an eye, perhaps like a bindi. She had no hair, but her traits undoubtedly feminine._

 _I continued to speak but without a single word hearing in response. Her gaze upon me hypnotic. I could stare forever into them. Those glowing eyes, sat within dark sockets. Telepathically, without at all giving me the joy to hear her voice, she instructed me to take a piece of paper. I took also a piece of stone. I am lucky to take anything back with me to the room when they let us outside for activities. I had of course had to sneak it in. I cut quickly across my palm and used a finger nail to illustrate blindly onto the paper, not once taking my eyes from her. Afterward, I rose to her and offered her my bleeding hand, to which she gently and slowly took and began licking and lapping her tongue at. The sensation, the maddening sting and her spreading saliva coursed through me, electrifying. She then offered my hand back to me and I fed upon my own cut, sucking, even biting at the skin, cleaning the traces of blood from myself. She then offered unto me a smile and she vanished before me.  
_

 _Upon my paper was her sigil, provided on page A.3, and she's instructed for me to call upon her with it, and her name: Vescatur. The Cannibal._

Finishing the last of that entry, Daria's eyes lifted slowly to the artist's painting, to see that it was exactly that of Vescatur.

* * *

Their tradition of having pizza never seized. With the paperwork carefully stored away and the painted sigil blue tacked onto the wall beside the easel, the two girls sat watching Sick, Sad World. Their bellies full, the two laid comfortably beside each other on the bed.

"How far are you with reading with the book?" Jane asked curiously.

"Almost half way through it. I'm inclined to finish it now. Always a habit of reading books. Even if I can't stand the damn thing, I gotta finish it"

"It's THAT bad?"

"It's unnerving" Daria replied truthfully. "With every detail, I just think about how this is all in our hands. What sort of creature we could be playing with if we take the information or use it the wrong way"

"We're not actively trying to summon anything, Daria. We're using it for academic research and studying. Nothing harmful about that"

"You say that now, but you can't be sure yourself, seeing as you mauled me earlier today"

Jane smirked. "You're really not gonna let that go are you?"

"No time soon"

* * *

Very reluctantly, staring over at her girlfriend who was offering just a nervous glance, the artist turned out the light and wondered over to the bed, getting in to wrap her arms around Daria tightly, securely. Nothing particularly sinister had happened to either of them, but they didn't wanna take chances with this thing they couldn't see. For the sake of safety and comfort, they sought out each other, as they would be experiencing this together.

"You set the camera up, right?" Daria asked in a hushed tone, trembling a little under the covers.

"Yeah. See that red light over there?" Jane pointed out in the dark, next to the computer.

The chestnut haired teen nodded and attempted to rest and settle herself down.

"It'll be okay" assured the artist in a soft whisper, stroking her girlfriend's hair.

"You can't be sure of that"

"I'm just offering feign optimism to calm your nerves. I figured you'd appreciate that"

"I'd appreciate an invisible entity NOT watching me sleep" the bookworm growled quietly, still trembling.

Jane tucked her head over the timid teen's shoulder, nuzzling her, as they tried to find comfort and ease with each other. She smiled as she felt Daria's own hands rise up from under the covers to stroke her hair softly, her fingers raking through it gently, through silky soft strands. Amidst the bitter silence and darkness, the girls held each other tight, exchanging whispering assurances to one another, hearing and feeling one another's terrified heartbeats.

Neither of them had a desire to be without the other for a single second that night.

 **End of part six**


	7. Time to get out, time to exorcise

Many times that night, Jane was sure that she'd managed to let her consciousness slip and whisk her away into some dream, however there proceeded to be instances in which demanded for her to keep batting her eyes open. She couldn't describe it. It just felt like there was some sort of presence in the room. Occasionally, sometimes for a second or so, she'd pick on raspy breathing, the sound of a page turning and even footsteps. There was no question. It was definitely coming from inside of the room. Despite her love being huddled up, asleep beside her, she'd never felt so alone in this moment. So vulnerable to whatever was creeping in her room. As a deer caught in head lights, she was frozen in her spot, having sat up, staring blankly into the darkness, her startled baby blue eyes darting around anxiously in her skull. Her senses at the ready for any indication of movement or sound.

Silence governed the room once more, but the artist still found herself stuck in her position, riddled with fear. The suspense laid with quietness, assured to amplify even the quietest of sounds. Her gaze then fell to the floor and she began slowly absorbing each little detail in the room, for any abnormalities. A shape or shadow she didn't re-call or remember. Anything. Despite her motionless exterior, she was riddled with adrenaline, pumping through her body. Her heartbeat drumming in her chest, throbbing in her ears. There was nothing to detect, but her emotions had already conquered her establishment of reasoning abilities. She was still to horrified to find the courage to lower her head back down. Trying to bring some ease to herself, covering her own face securely with her hands, closing her eyes, she let out a shuddering exhale. Make each breath slow and long. In... and out. In... and out.

She lowered her hands, her feign security source amid her desperation, to see what most certainly was a dark figure standing by the door. Within an instant, Jane felt a sense of surrender. Instead of being mortified, there was an odd feeling of acceptance, as if death had come for her and she found no reason to fight it. The two stared at each other for what felt like an hour. It didn't have any of the particular traits in which Jane had been reading about. There was no hovering or skulls or piercing eyes. It was most certainly a humanoid figure. It gave off a thin, smoke like aura that rippled in the darkness. The entity had no firm structure, like it was a collected mass of toxic fumes, whose formation still gave off subtle waves. In the blink of an eye, it vanished from sight, lending the raven haired teen to remember her emotional tension before hand and her eyes frantically searched the room, until they laid upon her easel, still set up, with a blank canvas. What sounded like tapping fingers on a firm surface arose and she watched in terror, as the canvas started to bleed patches and strokes of grey and stark black. The breathing, being finally audible, began picking up from the most delicate of breaths to the most seething deliverance, as if the entity were suppressing an incredible rage and whose breath seeped out through clenched teeth. It sounded as if it were a moment away from reappearing before her just to snap her neck.

* * *

Daria awoke with a grumble, as she felt the nuisance of harsh day light beat through the curtains. Rubbing her eyes, she looked beside her to see her girlfriend was gone.

Getting up, she walked downstairs and into the kitchen to see Trent, being a massive surprise, seeing as he wasn't usually up this early, unless...

"I didn't sleep a wink last night" he confirmed, sitting up at the counter with some coffee, not once lifting his head from his drink to greet her.

"Where's Jane?" the chestnut haired teen asked blandly.

"She went running. She left a note down here. Said she'll be back soon. She couldn't sleep either"

It seemed that whatever it was the two were unfortunate enough to encounter hadn't at all interfered with her last night. She felt a wash of guilt upon hearing that and sighed, getting up at the counter with Trent, beside him.

"Was she there?" he inquired.

"Excuse me?"

"The woman I was talking about. Did you hear singing or voices?"

"Err... I was out the entire time"

The musician huffed. "Lucky"

"I'm sorry. The whole point of me being here was to keep company with Jane to keep her feeling safe, and I couldn't even feel if she were sweating with fear right next to me"

"You were out like a light. I woulda been the same"

* * *

It was early, even by Daria's standards alone. Light was just about touching the sky, casting a mixed shade of pinks, oranges and blue-ish grays. She went out in her boots into the garden, letting the cool air help wake her. It was crisp, gave chills that were actually a welcomed sensation, seeing how oddly hot it was in the room when she woke up, perhaps due to the glaring sun.

Soon, she heard soft, consecutive pants, as Jane slowed herself down, entering the garden. Removing her headphones, she was astonished to see Daria standing there, still in her night shirt.

"Morning, amiga" she greeted, perked.

The bookworm looked down at the floor, unresponsive and the little smile that lit Jane's face slid away.

"I didn't wake you last night, 'cus I didn't want you to be scared too. I mean, what good would that have done us?"

"I still feel bad. You were up all night, like Trent, panicking and worrying and I was sound asleep, oblivious to what was going on" Daria replied.

"Again, it wouldn't have done any good if you were up too. We'd just be sat that, shaken outta our wits"

"But, that was the point: that neither of us were going to experience it alone. I woulda preferred to be awake so at least we could confide in each other somehow"

Sighing, Jane took a seat in the garden, still cool from the morning air.

"What've you got left to read of the journal?"

"I don't think it matters. He keeps talking about this demonic entity and his obsession with her. I don't think we'll be doing ourselves any favors hanging onto it any longer. The sooner we get rid of it, the better"

"Roger that"

"What time did we say we'd meet the airheads?" Daria grimaced.

"Just after lunch. I suppose if we're throwing ourselves back into the lions den, we may as well plump ourselves up"

An amused smirk crossed the bookworm's face. "You mean plump THEM up? If I recall, you described their attendance today as a means of having canaries down the mine"

"Precisely. I am standing by that statement"

* * *

Seeing as they would be leaving shortly, Jane shot upstairs, going to store the journal in a ragged satchel that belonged to Trent from years ago. Before stuffing the lot in, she couldn't help but stop and admire the artwork. She wished she could recapture that genuine style, create her own works with hidden symbolic meanings in this style. It was clear the creator was passionate.

"Hey, Vincent Van Gogh, get your butt down here. I wanna exorcise this bastard TODAY!" called Daria from downstairs.

It was then the artist crammed the artifact into the satchel and took off, so much in a hurry, her mind remained absent from the concern of Vescatur's pendant, still sat within her desk drawer.

 **End of part seven**


	8. Satanas Vobiscum

As the group walked along, Daria began feeling that this walk would feel excruciatingly longer than usual. Jane had resorted to an odd silence. When the brunette offered to carry the vile book, the artist would just shake her head, a determined expression. She just wanted to dump the work and go. The bookworm couldn't blame her. Since they'd started their march back to NOPE central, neither Kevin or Brittney could let there be a moment of quiet to appreciate.

'I mean, have you guys actually seen anything yet, or has it all been noises and weird coincidences?' nagged the quarterback.

"For all I know, right this second, it's just noise" groaned Daria, eyeing the dense sportsman.

"Kevey, you'll protect me when we go in, right? I don't want to be left all alone" whimpered the blonde.

"Chill, babe. I'll be with you every step of the way" Kevin assured, an arm around his sweetheart.

"Yes" finally murmured the artist. "Every step of the way, further and further into the certain clutches of death"

"Speaking of which" emitted the chestnut haired teen, gazing up at the looming spectacle. It's impression no less intimidating, perhaps even greater today. Crows cawed in the dying trees and flapped their wings fiercely. The doors to the hospital now appeared as an enlarged yawning, the building personified; staring down at the students with numerous eyes: smashed, cracked, dusty and webbed. A howl rushed out from the doors, as if the many souls that once inhabited the terrible place were sending their greatest warning.

"Courage, Morgendorffer" muttered the raven haired gal, persuasively.

"Let's get this over with. Kevin, Brittney, stick to the ground level. I don't want this to turn into a hide and seek game. We meet back at the entryway in 10 minutes. If you wanna stay longer, that's fine with us"

"They'll make a decent distraction when we make for our escape"

Daria hushed her, a small smile on her lips. "Shh! Don't let them hear you"

"Gotcha!" affirmed the quarterback, totally oblivious to his status as a human sacrifice. Immediately, the outcasts made for the room they retrieved the book, whilst Brittney and Kevin went exploring.

Grunting with the effort, managing its weight, Jane leaned over and let the mass of paper fall from her onto the floor and slid it back under the bed with her boot.

"Anti-climactic, isn't it?" sighed Jane with a shred of disappointment.

"Were you expecting a fist fight match with the final boss?"

"Nah, this is the ground floor, tutorial stage. We haven't even gotten to level one yet" she mused, smiling at her girlfriend, who returned the smile, only to have it gradually shrink away at the long pause.

"Jane Lane, don't even think about it"

"C'mon, we put the stupid book back. I wanna look around more. The entity should leave us be now, right?"

The bookworm pinched the bridge of her nose "I can't believe you"

* * *

"Kevey!" squeaked the cheerleader, wondering the corridors. She'd stopped for a brief moment to watch some mice outside a broken window. Kevin had vanished, leaving her alone in the dark space. The blonde felt herself being consumed by the shadows, her inferior mind opening up a gateway to an imagination of horrors so vast. Timid as the creatures she was observing, she made her way further, quietly, down the corridor, the only confirmation heard being that of her own clicking heels, traveling down into the darkness.

Everything was morbidly decaying, decayed, filthy. The only sources of life being of the abhorrent parasites that bred between the walls and writhed by her feet. As she stopped on her independent venture, just as she spun round to make her way back, a peculiar sound caught her attention. A voice, a few, in unison and what they had to say was far from comforting:

 _"Veni, omnipotens aeterne diabolus"_

The words vibrated in a consecutive chant, along with which was another sound that wavered in the air, that tickled her ears, like a bell or ring of a singing bowl. It started off quiet, then became more distinct. The air had taken the vulnerable girl's mind into a trance, grasping the sides of her head firmly, hypnotizing her. The chanting appeared to be something more choral, like in a church and, with her brain hooked with an imaginary fishing reel, her feet shuffled lightly forward, onward, into the dark.

 _"Ad Satanas qui laetificat juventutem meam"_

The voices continued and were bold, blissful. All the girl could feel right now was a weaving, a threading sensation inside her skull, like a massage, like her brain was literally being washed. She captivated by the noise and proceeded onward, until the dark swallowed her and the noise of her travel became fainter and fainter...

"BABE!" Cried Kevin, lunging forth and catching her in his arms.

"Eek!"

The two fell onto the floor, and the cheerleader writhed in the embrace, getting to her feet.

"What the heck do you think you're doing? Where were you?"

"I was all the way back there, babe. You continued on without me. I was gonna find a sheet and jump out and scare ya, but when I came back out, I couldn't see ya anywhere"

Pouting, Brittney shoved her boyfriend back onto the floor, when he attempted to get up "Ugh, I knew it! You were trying to frighten me! I've had enough! I'm going home"

* * *

Reluctantly, Daria tagged along with Jane, as they moved on up to the next level. The stairs was just a mess of dislocated floor tiles and crisp packets and leaves.

"Why are you doing this? Why am I doing this?" questioned the bookworm.

"Admit it, you're curious too"

"What's there to be curious about? It's a creepy, abandoned mental hospital that makes you feel like wherever you go, someone is watching you"

"The place is fueled with morbid memories, Daria. There's a lot to paint, a lot to write about" she explained, glancing up and around the corridors and and rooms.

"Nothing you couldn't just make up on the spot. You had to actually feel the breath of the hospital patient's on your neck to inspire you"

"Sick thrills, I guess"

Daria came to a halt, glaring at her lover. "So you attacking me yesterday was a sick thrill?"

"What?! N-no!" said the artist, taken aback.

"I get it, Jane. You wanna be there in the moment when stuff's happening, but you're willing to drag me into this, so long as you can paint? What's it gonna be next? My head on a spike?"

"Jesus, calm down, Daria" Jane had never seen her like this. The brunette was seething, fists clenched at the sides. "You said yourself that you don't want me to come here alone"

"I don't want you coming here at all! Either of us. Has the last few days just been a joy ride to you? Do you even care that Trent doesn't want us here either? It messes with people's heads this place. Whether these entities are real or not, I don't want us to have anything more to do with them. And you keep wanting to come back here? Why? What are you looking for!?"

"I... I don't know..." Jane admitted. "I don't understand why. You're right too, we can do our assignment on something else or just make stuff up. I'm sorry... I just thought all of this was mysterious and interesting. I started thinking of it as some adventure for us". The tomboy looked down, scratching the back of her head.

Sighing, expelling some worked up frustration and tension, Daria looked to her girlfriend sympathetically. "But not if it's at the expense of our safety. Do you understand? I don't want you getting hurt"

Jane lifted her head and looked over to the brunette, nodding in agreement. For the last few days, it felt like she was ADDICTED to the place. She had no idea why and she just used the assignment as an excuse. She admitted that to herself. She didn't give a rats ass about that project. Something was telling her to go back. But what was it.

"Jane..."

The way in which the artist was addressed consisted of some form of alarm, dread, and Daria pointed over into a nearby room, where a faint light was flickering from under the door. The raven haired teen pushed the door open and they both stopped at the doorway, looking into the room: At the far end of the room on a large wall, was a depiction of what looked like Baphomet, with spray paints. The room contained 6 beds, all neatly aligned with a walk way in between. At the foot of the artwork was what looked like a protection circle, some candles lined up along the wall and in the dead center of the room, a stark black pentagram. A strange, static like noise drew their focus to a record player, set up nearby, the needle just drifting, the vinyl of _'Lustmord'_ come to an end of playing.

"...Let's get the fuck outta here" Daria uttered, shaking.

 **End of Part Eight**

(Yeah, I'm getting back into writing a bit more now. The uni year ain't quite over yet, but it's this that's keeping me sane. Any suggestions, supply in the comments. Always excited to hear what you guys think)


	9. Too much cheese!

We all watch the news and hear about how insidious things happen in this world. In the back of our minds, there lingers this ignorant thought: It couldn't happen to me, thought Daria. It's like Maynard said in 'Vicarious':

 _"'Cause I need to watch things die, from a distance_  
 _Vicariously I live while the whole world dies_  
 _You all need it too, don't lie"_

We all complain about the horrible instances of the world, when in reality, in some morbid, twisted way, we feel safe when we watch it and hear about it. We feel distant and disconnected... and it's a good thing. Because it's on the TV. It couldn't ever happen. It's an archaic, ritualistic entertainment: watching people suffer, like the people of ancient Rome in their Colosseum, seeing wild African beasts render victims limb from limb. However, now the tables have turned, and the bookworm re-considers her position, no longer a spectator, now in fact one of the victims in wait, waiting, anticipating for the lion to leap for her, as the world around her dies, their cheers reduced a dense hum, as the king of cats bares its fangs and takes her head.

"Daria"

The analysis had driven away the brunette from a state of self awareness and she returned to find the Kevin and Brittney walking off together down the road, the street lights flickering. Jane's hand rests on her shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Huh, yeah. Guess I'm feeling a little warped from earlier"

"Don't blame ya, I didn't actually to expect to walk in on some set-up. At least there were no bodies"

"How do you know they weren't busy disposing of them?"

"How would you dispose of a body?" inquired the artist, smirking.

"I guess i could just feed them to the neighbors dog, but that would take too long and be too messy"

"Okay, taking the Bricktop method. I like it"

"Bricktop fed his victims to pigs" the bookworm corrected.

"Plenty of pigs at Lawndale High" the raven haired teen implied.

"What would you do?"

"I'd either throw it in a wood-chipper, see how that goes, or I'd leave it in a ditch so the bugs could do their miracle work then I'd come back several months later, clean off the rest of the gunk and reassemble him so I can use him as an anatomical study piece. So, if people wondered about it, I'd say I bought it online"

"No bleach?"

"Nah, I messed up last time with that stuff. Turns everything chalky"

The conversation had certainly worked to divert her attention temporarily, but after another analysis, she just saw that it proved what she had been considering. After placing herself in the position of those victims... no, maybe she'd be fine with that after all. It's HOW she would day that unnerved her.

Just as Jane was to open her mouth, suggesting she come inside the house for a rest, a piercing shriek rang from the garage, followed by a a rhythm from a set of guitars. Withdrawing a long sigh, she looked to Daria, her eyes begging.

"Come on, I think it's time you spent some time at my place. I don't mean it as an assurance that we'll find total solitude, after all, Quinn's den is just down the hall from mine"

* * *

"Hmmm, I'm not sure" said Helen, cocking her head some. "It's a school night"

"I think it'd be better if Jane stayed here tonight. Since she's trying to get her own natural alarm clock fixed, I think this would be good opportunity to help her onto the right path" Daria offered, in her deadpan expression and vocals.

"Is that true, Jane? Do you struggle with insomnia?"

"The amount I sleep is fine. It's the actual time I set for myself to sleep that's a problem" the artist explained.

Smiling some, Helen nods. "Well, then you're very welcome to sleep here tonight. Daria has a strict morning time set for herself and works very well with it. I hope your sleep pattern improves"

A small groan draws out from Jane's lips.

"Hey Jane-o!" greets Jake, standing in the kitchen.

"Hello, Mr. Morgendorffer"

"You staying for dinner? I made lasagna!"

"Jake, you didn't use all the Parmesan, did you? I was going to save some for Sunday's dinner" Helen sighed, slight irritate indicated in her voice.

"Can't a man thrive and have some freedom in the kitchen?" he whined, layering out the sauces and pasta. Dabbing her finger in the cheese, she took a test taste. Her face contorted with the richness.

"Jake, how much cheese did you put in this?"

"Does it matter? I wanna be able to taste it"

"You used up a whole block of Cheddar! Are you trying to give yourself another heart attack?"

"If there's one way to go, lasagna may not be a bad option" Jane mused.

"See, Jane agrees with me!" Jake yelled, pointing to the artist, having not heard much from her other than 'lasagna', 'not' and 'bad'.

"The doctor said for you to cut down on cheese!" Mrs Morgendorffer shouted, arms upheld, exaggerating her proclamation. As the two resumed in their daily argument, the teens retreated from the scene to the couch to watch telly.

* * *

"So, Daria, about this person you're seeing..." Quinn dumbly started, provoking intrigue around the table.

"Yes, the person I'm see right now I'm hoping finds themselves in the near future progressively become bald, wrinkle and shrivel into an insignificant spectacle to rightly accommodate their IQ level" Daria growled quietly, eyeing her sister with severe contempt.

"That's the kinda person she's into?" peeped the air headed father, looking to Helen, who rolled her eyes in response.

The mother turned her eyes sternly to the youngest. "Maybe this is a conversation best saved for later. We have a guest, Quinn"

"It's just a question" she defended, raising her hands up.

"But, yes" Helen continued, her gaze shifting to Daria. "You have been out of the house more than usual. We're wondering what's going on"

"Whoever it is, I swear if it's some trouble maker..." Jake warned, with clenched teeth and fist. Jane gulped quietly and looked down at her meal.

"JAKE! It's fine" Helen assured, resting a hand on his back. "If it IS someone you're seeing, that's great and we hope you're happy. But, you know how me and your father are and how we understand your routine and habits. It piqued our curiosity is all"

"When do we get to see him?"

This was hell. Daria was being confronted left and right and didn't know how to respond... what to say.

"Hey, Mr. Morgendorffer" Jane instigated, saving Daria from some pressure. "Do you know anything about the abandoned psychiatric hospital? Me and Daria are doing an assignment on it"

"Hey, cool! I always wondered what it was like in there. Did you take photos?"

"Daria, you can't be serious! You actually set foot in that dump?" Helen cried, surprised her daughter would venture somewhere so horrible.

"Like Jane said, it's for an assignment. We wanted to look into the history of the hospital and see what's become of it now" Daria calmed her mother, eating more the lasagna; which had rock hard rims on the pasta and a sauce so thick, it was like layered cottage cheese.

The fashion club member grumbled "Sandi told me some real freaks hang out around there. Don't tell me you're one of them. You're already a big enough freak as it is"

"QUINN!" exclaimed Helen.

"Freaks?" shivered the father. "What kind of freaks?"

"I don't know. I think just people with spray paint, cigarettes, and magazines" the stereotyped teen explained, pushing around food on her plate.

"Squatters?!" Jake frantically roared. "Drug dealers? Murderers? What has this town come to?!"

"Daria, go get your father some water" Helen suggested, rubbing her temples. The brunette obliged, leaving her love amused at the chaotic ramblings. "You haven't set foot near there, have you Quinn?"

Quinn shook her head "Well, Joey, Jeffy and Jamie were talking about when I was coming home from school once. They showed me where it was and they'd say they'd go through it and wave from the top window so they could show me how brave they were"

"What did THEY see?"

"Well, Joey was the only one who did it. The other two couldn't go as far as the doorway. He said there were beer cans, lots of creepy bugs, rats and graffiti"

When graffiti was mentioned, Jane's interest was found "Graffiti?"

"Jane..." droned the bookworm, passing her panicked father a glass of water.

"Yeah, graffiti. They looked like black, contorted squiggles, lots of stars, numbers, there was a big picture of a goat"

"A goat?" parroted Helen.

"Satanists!" screamed Jake.

"Oh boy" groaned Daria, watching her father rise from his chair and start pacing.

"Girls, could you clear up please? I'm going to go calm your father down" Helen asked, attempting to calm Jake and guide him out of the room.

 **End of Part Nine**


	10. It's not over

The washing up was more of just a task of physical work, it was persuading Quinn to participate. There was nagging, exchange of sarcasm, bribery and finally it was done. As they all went upstairs, Helen emerged from the bottom of the stairs.

"Daria, can you stay down here? I want to talk to you" she cooed.

Jake had gone to bed, his outburst and fear riddled ramblings having exhausted him. Shrugging, looking to Jane, she went back down. The entire lower of the house was dark, apart from the lamp that cast a warm glow in the living room where they sat. Jane headed upstairs to change, then walked the bathroom and brushed her teeth with Quinn standing nearby.

"Ugh, could you wait till I finish?" spat the redhead, into the sink.

"I could, then the plaque may continue to consume me so bad, it affects my brain and I become an imbecile"

"That can happen?" gasped the insolent girl, making the older girl roll her eyes. "Anyway, do you know much about Daria's boyfriend? Is he cute? Is he just some weird gender-swapped version of her?"

The constant prattling was giving the artist a migraine. "He's cool. I wouldn't say he's a total gender-swap of her, they're not totally identical" she said, while she wasn't giving away who 'he' was, she felt it'd be fun to play along. "But their personalities compliment each other pretty well"

"So... are they cute?" Quinn egged on, fetching mouthwash.

"Oh yeah, baby. Drop dead gorgeous" the raven haired gal grinned, massaging her ego.

With an ecstatic gasp at the description, Quinn turned to her, grabbing her arm "Do you think we could get Daria to let us meet him?"

"Hmm, I dunno. It depends you see. You may have seen him around already"

"At Longdale?"

"Yep"

"What's he look like?"

"Oh, about 5,5, dark hair, shoulder length, kinda ectomorph build, handsome"

"Oh..."

"Oh, what?" Jane raised a brow, hoping Quinn was dense enough to not get she was describing herself. Thankfully, she was.

"So he's only two inches taller than me. That rules him out. My shoe collection is based on me dating guys who are three inches taller at least"

"You're thinking of hitting on him? Your sister's boyfriend?" Jane peeped, blushing a little, but also cringing somewhat at the thought. "Christ, you have low standards"

"What are you talking about? I just said I only date guys 3 inches taller. I'm very strict with my regulations"

"I mean you've never met the guy, it's your sisters boyfriend... can't you let her have some shred of happiness for once?"

"Chill out" Quinn groaned, gargling and spitting the mouthwash. "I'm not 'after' him, I'm just curious. There's no way I'd steal my sisters boyfriend. Besides, the way you described him sounded as if you were buttering me up. If anything, previously, I'd thought he was some loser."

The artist grit her teeth, snatching the mouth wash too.

"Gonna give me a name at least?" the redhead whinged, hands on hips.

"Nope" Jane retorted, spitting.

"Aww, c'mon...!"

* * *

A herbal tea was something new around the house. Helen often persuaded Jake to try it, especially when in attempts calm him. Daria wasn't a fan. Helen sipped her cup, dressed in her gown and turned to her daughter, who was eager to flee given the permission to.

"Now, Daria, I know you may not think this is any of my business, but I'd like to know a bit about this person you're seeing"

"Huh, so I can't persuade you into thinking otherwise. Is it that obvious?"

"Daria, I'm your mother. Mothers can pick up on all sorts of little things. Your behavior has made a change as of late. You're quieter than usual around the house and we barely even see you anymore..."

"The second you compare me to Quinn, I'm leaving"

"So, who is this person? What're they like?"

"Um... well... I can't say we're identical, cus we're not, but there's a lot about their personality their echoes my own frame of mind, but is still deviant and independent enough to speak in a way that challenges that perception and try new things and even encourage me to do the same. They've become an essential part of my life and it's hard for me to imagine being without them.

Not much of a response to that, just a sincere nod and a "Mhmm" A cue to continue.

"When I'm with them, they make me feel not so alone, that I'm not crazy for thinking the way I do. She makes me laugh at things that only I'd find to be of amusement, whilst others either wouldn't be able to comprehend or just be repulsed by. It all feels natural, nothing is phony or enforced"

Another nod, only this time longer and with some silence. After a minute, Helen patted her daughters knee.

"I'm sure she thinks of you the same way"

She?

Immediately, Daria tensed, having let that pro-noun slip and proceeded to knead and scratch at the couch seating. Helen shook her head some, a warm smile on her face.

"Thank you for telling me, Daria. I hope this hasn't burdened you for too long"

"Burden?" Daria repeated, her brain still in a bit of a twist.

"Your father and I love you very much and we only want for your happiness"

This time, Daria didn't reply. Still stuck in a state of shock from her own mis-wording.

"It's alright, Daria. Go get some sleep. I won't tell anyone else if you don't want me to"

"Um... it's alright. So long as I know it's people I know and trust"

"Understood"

Raising to her feet, Helen kissed Daria's forehead and reached for her cup, finishing the tea.

"Scoot along to bed. You want to show a good example of bed time curfew for your girlfriend"

"Mom!"

The woman chuckled, seeing her daughter walk on up the stairs "You didn't think I didn't know who you were talking about?"

At that, Daria looked down, a soft pink on her cheeks then proceeded to walk on up.

* * *

In the Lane residence, Trent had evaded his sister's room, something he scolded himself for doing. He'd never usually do this. He wanted to make sure the book was gone. He searched the drawers, shifted things about, looked about behind the canvas. It appeared clear. He let out a sigh of relief.

"I guess that's the end of it. Good job, Jane"

A glisten appeared at the corner of his eye and, in one of the drawers, he saw a disc shaped pendant, sitting under some scraps of paper. He picked it up and stared in horror and the Vescatur's sigil. The young man shivered, feeling a breeze in the room. A collection of voices slowly picked up, faintly at first, like children's laughter, escalated in volume. A rise in sensation from within, so scared he'd puke. He turned his head slowly to the doorway, and the dark figure stood observing him. A flash. A powercut, and the sounds of the eerie children's voices faded along with the surge of comforting light.

 **End of Part Ten**


	11. Drunken Devilworshipers

The feeling when one steps on your grave, Jane got it. She lounged on the spare bed in Daria's room in her PJ shorts and a baggy red shirt, inflating her brain with the morbidity of Hellraiser before sleep. It had been a long while since she'd even seen the room. Usually the call is for Daria to go and visit Jane, since they don't have to worry so much about 'parental approval' or undesired company. Her room was much warmer than Jane's. It was hard to tell if the room was bigger or just seemed that way, due to lack of rubbish occupying it, like the artist had for her own room.

Daria eventually walked on in, straight faced, apparently non-phased.

"Yo" greeted the older teen, her eyes remaining averted and directed at the TV screen.

"Hey. You gonna engage with the program stated earlier or am I gonna have to knock you out with a blunt object?" asked the brunette, as she turned her back and started changing.

"It's 10pm. Cool it" the raven haired gal shrugged.

"How long does it take for you to get to sleep anyway?"

"I dunno. Most nights I go to bed around 2 or 3am"

"That's it. Where's my copy of 'War and Peace'?" Daria said with feign anger. A sly streak of amusement marked the artist's face.

"Oh, Daria, my darling, must you resort to such violence?"

"Oh, no tears, please. It's a waste of good suffering'" the brunette replied, quoting Pinhead.

For a fraction of a second, the artist dared to take a sideways glance at her girlfriend. Though Daria's movements were quick, it didn't utterly rob Jane's chance at appreciating the 'sight' of her completely. Daria's form, unlike Jane's admitted ruler-based skinny one from earlier, had a unique mesh. It wasn't easily identifiable, probably a mesh between a pear shape, hourglass and ruler. The bookworm certainly made sure to hide her figure and it was kind of a shame she did. Although it was her decision and Jane knew rather well Daria was not one for attention.

As Daria leaned over to pick up a Mark Twain shirt and erected her posture to place her head and arms through the holes, the artist took full advantage and let her eyes wonder. A delighted smirk drew on the teen's features and she laid on her side, comfortable, her eyes drinking in the detail of her legs, her c-cup breasts, her waist and her butt. All of which complimenting with delicate, milky skin.

A soft, warm stirring occurred in the artist's stomach and a feeling further below, familiar to previously the other day, rendered her mind blank. She knew that the topic would be difficult to address. Daria was already a bit of a shut in when it came to her emotions and sharing any sense of intimacy was an infrequent, but not rare, opportunity. She felt it best to delay her approach to Daria. She was her best friend previously after all. It'd feel like the greatest sin to take advantage of her, if taking advantage of Daria would even be possible.

Her eyes tore away in time for when the bookworm's head popped up through the shirt hole and the rest of the material was tugged down further, masking her frame up to her knees, like some nightie. Her chocolate hair poured across her shoulders, until flicked back and behind, and she made her way to her own bed.

"I'd offer for us to share the bed, but I figured it was too small"

"Well, you could always just kick me out if I'm snoring" Jane replied. She blinked, unsure of why the statement gave her such a feeling of 'Deja vu'.

"Um, you don't snore, so it's not an issue. I just thought you'd appreciate having some space"

The brunette reached for the room light and the room flooded instantly with blackness.

* * *

A storm came on strong that night, a wicked howl rode the night sky, the full moon staring down onto Lawndale. The front door to the Lane residence swung back and forth from the wind, Trent's body laying splayed across the bottom of the stairs, like he'd been carelessly thrown down. A small pool of blood sat at his head.

* * *

Far away, at the abandoned hospital, lively flickers of flame danced in the top windows. A group of teens hung out, chortling, swigging booze and playing their vinyls. Lustmord cast aside, now played 'In Taberna quando sumus' as part of the 'Carmina Burana'. Poor Latin rang out in slurs and awkward hiccups. The corridors groaned and squeaked with male and female voices. The flames came from cheap, bamboo torches from a local gardening shop and leaned against the windows as the gang cleared the room in a drunken haze. Chaotic clangs and screeches echoed through the network of halls, as they raced hospital beds to the end and let them drop from the stairs, all gradually barricading the passage to the top floor. They didn't care.

Surgical instruments were dusted off and paired up with tacky replicas of historical blades and genuine, rusted machetes. A member poured out salt into a circle, almost taking up the whole room, before the Baphomet. Some gathered at the five points of the black star on the floor and linked, hand to hand.

Their words vibrated in the air, their own heads swimming with the attempts of meditation after becoming intoxicated. The music had changed back to Lustmord, dark ambience, that better suited their mood. Another member walked slowly around the perimeter, ringing a bell after the end of each consecutive chant they drew out lowly:

 _"Agio O Satanas"_

Close behind the bell ringer dwelled another member with some incense, swaying a thurible side to side, muttering his own lines of Latin, that which little to no sense to him.

Their form of dress wasn't even that sinister. No long torn robes or militaristic uniform, such as with Boyd Rice, rather it was the people's own clothing, that lingered still in dark hues of greens and blues. Scruffy sneakers, old hoodies, baggy jeans with holes. The stink of sandalwood filled the room and tonight would be another night of disillusionment.

* * *

Jane sat up, staring over at the end of the room, where the door had creaked its way open. With no help from the previous night, she gathered tonight would be yet another would be another restless one. Her mind was wide awake, alerted, expecting something, someone to be there, but nothing to appease the wary eyes. Once again, she refused to wake Daria, who appeared up on her bed fast asleep. She sighed, reaching over to stroke along her arm, causing the brunette to murmur, but not stir. Jane smiled warmly, feeling safe with her, but as her eyes returned to the doorway, her heart lodged painfully in her throat and her skin prickled, seeing a dark figure blatantly standing at the door way, children's laughter being faintly heard.

* * *

Daria's eyes flickered open and she groaned with annoyance, seeing as the visions from earlier today were still bugging her. She sat up and looked down to her side, to see Jane sitting up too, seemingly staring at nothing.

"Can't sleep, huh?" queried the bookworm.

"Mmn" nodded the artist, still staring at nothing.

"I can't blame you. A lot happened yesterday and for the past week really. You can come sleep in here with me if it'll make you feel better"

Daria wasn't much for closeness, despite the last few times they'd slept in the same bed, but tonight particularly, Daria felt she had a duty to see to it her girlfriend got the sleep she needed. Looking at her now seemed as if she were staring down at a reliable hound sitting watch, guarding it's owner.

"Mmn" replied the artist.

"C'mon, get up in here. Just holding the duvet open for a moment is making me cold"

It was then Jane stood from her guests bed and made her way to Darias. There she slipped, pulling the cover over herself, moving awkwardly in the sheets, till she positioned herself between the brunette's legs looking down at her.

Having been agitated at first, the bookworm froze, looking up at her partner in slight panic.

 **End of Part Eleven**

(Here's some music provided to go along with the Devil worship part and leading back to Daria's house where Jane wakes up: watch?v=jVeC0zGyJms . Just apply to link with Youtube)


	12. Stolen from me

_(A long overdue continuation. Thanks for all the reviews and reading. I hope you enjoy this story coming to a soon close)._

 **Jane's head bolted up, a reflex, as if she'd fallen asleep in the car or in class. All around her, everything seemed to be warped and morphed in a hallucinatory drug-induced trance state. At first, she was afraid a minor step would cause her to fall into nothingness, but found relief seeing that the wavering lines of the room were only more of an irritation to the eyes and didn't serve to exemplify the actual instability it fooled one to think. Walking out from the room, she was greeted with screams of despair and torment from down a long, seemingly infinite corridor.**

 **"Oh ...God..." she muttered.**

 **Immediately, her heartbeat performed an eerie soundtrack, filling in for the absent 'room tone'. Taking a deep breath, she began her march down the corridor. At the end, she saw a man, rendered to his spot in a catatonic schizophrenic state. It was as if he were mimicking the stark white bulky support poles of the room. The previously heard wails had fizzled out into an exchange of frightened and angered gibberish between two rooms positioned opposite of each other, as if the patients were having a deep conversation, held in a non-existent, unnecessary language.**

 **A humming, like a hornet, buzzed from another room, along with hissing and stammering of "J-J-Jesus... ah... Our loving messiah... have mercy... omla setro beshz sko aour ray". He spoke in tongues, writhing in his bed which he was strapped to. Shivers tapped through the terrified teen and she walked on, blatantly, forcefully, ignoring a man with severe stitches about his temples, emphasizing the prefrontal cortex. He delivered what appeared to be an hostile stare, only the expression was hollow. Like a zombie, her stared on... and on... and on... at nothing.**

 **Coming to the end was a fellow who appeared, at least in comparison to some of the others, as relatively normal. He took his meds with a shrug and toothy grin. A scratchy beard detailed his face messily. Chuckling. He laughed, having had enough of the nurses and made his way back to the room. Anticipating collision, as he was walking in the artist's direction, Jane's frame dissipated, like a cloud, and unified again, as the guy walked through her. Staring out the window, partly opened to invite air, her spat out the pill he'd hid under his tongue and looked out on the staff, guiding the less cooperative and catatonic folk around in wheelchairs. The day, or what could be made of natural daylight, faded, and the gentleman withdrew from under his mattress some paper.**

 **IT WAS THE BOOK.**

 **The gentleman was the patient they'd been reading from. Her attention fully gathered, she walked in to accompany him. He splayed his words and drawings on the floor, humming lowly to himself. He brought out the sigil. The symbol. A shard of stone. He struck it out across his inner thigh, somewhere discreet. The raven haired gal bit her lip, watching the trembling man draw blood and illustrate with it, like ink, onto the symbol directly.**

 **There, he folded his legs and allowed his eyes to roll back in their sockets. Hissing, words withdrew from his lips like a vibration, one word after the other, drawing them out as long and as painfully as possible. He was trying to meditate and this was his mantra.**

 **V-E-S-C-A-T-U-R.**

 **Jane sat with him, watching his movements, hearing his sounds. The crazed fellow let his eyelids fall, as he succumbed to his transcendental meditative state.**

 **As of now, nothing. Jane waited for the demon to 'appear', but there was nothing there to be seen to be believed. Sighing, she thought the only way to see was not to expect for things to happen, but to make things happen for you.**

 **"When in Rome..." she mumbled dully, with an ounce of intrigue.**

 **Crossing her legs, she copied the man next to her, nonethewiser to her presence and first practiced on her breathing. She'd done this before, but god forbid she'd confess to Daria she had done any of this bullshit. Letting the silence and wavering guide her, she began to fall into the state as she murmured.**

 **"VES-CA-TUR. VES-CA-TUR"**

 **Still nothing, until she indicated some form of motion. A draft.**

 **"Oh my love..." whispered the man, shakily. "Hast father showed to you my workings? Does he know?"**

 **She opened her eyes... and Vescatur was sure as fucking hell seen to be believed. Jane feared to move, as she watched the insane fool praise her.**

 **"I'm sure I will influence them soon. You see... they don't know. Those doctors think they know what they're doing. They think they have us all figured out. Well, it's lies. You see, I've told another about you. I... I'm sorry to go against your word... but you see, he believes. He truly believes and he wants you to appear before him, to be shown unto the true side, the word and guidance of the unholy spirit. Would you do it?"**

 **He had told someone about it?**

 **Uh-oh. Had this thing spread out more so than Jane had anticipated? Was there a full blown organized cult to be unearthed from all of this? Of course they'd come across the works of some devil worshipers in the hospital, but ... had someone else, on the outside, known of this? Were the satanists just the tip of the iceberg? Who else knew? WAS THAT WHY THE HOSPITAL WAS STILL STANDING? Was it an unholy ground or temple?**

 **The entity levitated with ease, caressing the skulls upon her shoulders like cats. The jaws chattered playfully and the demon stared on lazily at the man, who was bowing before her. Although the man may have been deluded, downright insane, he may have had a dangerous influence on the outside world during the time of his captivity. Was there something to find out, to investigate? Did this damn guy have a name?**

 **As if Jane wasn't scared out of her wits already, the beast finally opened it's mouth and a demonic drone filled the room, accompanied by the light and innocent notes of a girl singing. The man wept with relief, as if the creatures growls were songs from compassionate and loving angels. A crack. The demon twisted it's neck slowly and it faced the artist, whose jaw dropped in awe. In fright. She was paralyzed and she could feel the gaze eating her alive. Her spine drew her down forcefully to the ground and as the creature found the floor, it reached out it's otherwise limp and abandoned limbs, and drew the girl into it's embrace to devour her in the hell flame cradled in it's open belly.**

* * *

"Rrrgh" grunted the artist, shaking her mind out of her freaky experience.

Her eyes widened, feeling a pair of familiar warm hands caress her, like in a hug, but there was this new electricity that tingled them both, head to toe. They were bold, adventurous and traveled to sensitive regions that made her withhold the urge to moan out into the empty darkness. The motion of rocking came to a still, as stuttered breath found her bare and naked chest. An unusual buzz, like relief, throbbed between their legs. Jane nuzzled Daria's head, appreciating it's softness and the sound of Daria's voice... her voice. It was unlike her usual self. It was outside the usual monotone restrains and was pleasing, erotic to the ear. Sweat wept from their skin, as they continued to caress each other. The bookworm's lips pressed to her neck, which would have stimulated and aroused the artist, only she found her body was already tired from an experience she should have been there to witness and treasure.

The two cuddled to each other, body's entwining beneath the sheets, as the pleasured brunette went off into slumber. Running her fingers through the girl's hair, Jane angrily stared into the blackness. Vescatur took her first time with Daria away from her.

* * *

Daria batted her eyes open in the dark and found that the raven-haired teen had left her alone. Instantly, the nerd bolted out of bed and looked out the window, to see Jane running down the sidewalk. The girl was a step away from yelling with frustration. She knew where she was going and had to stop her. Getting her clothes on, still feeling the fading glow from their previous love-making, Daria dashed out to follow her. Not being as athletic as her girlfriend, the brunette slowed and came to a pause, panting, watching her lover disappear out of sight.

"Dammit" she bit, looking down at the ground. "Just... dammit!" she growled, breaking her characterized monotone twice that night.

"D-Daria!" called a pained voice.

She turned to see Trent, limping out from the Lane residence, holding the amulet up in plain view. His blood spat on the concrete and he glared on with clenched teeth "G-G-Get in the car... let's get this unholy freak out of our lives for good!"

 **End of Part Twelve**


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